The Garment Bag
by dcat8888
Summary: My offering in response to the Halloween challenge


The Garment Bag

by dcat

The calendar read October 31st. Only thing was, it felt more like the dog days of August in Southern California. It had to be 85 degrees at 7am.

McCormick threw back the covers and let out a heavy sigh. He'd managed to get a full eight hours of sleep but the three week stretch of hot weather was taking its toll on him. Then again, maybe it wasn't the weather as much as it was the other circumstances of the day. He sat up and raised his arms up over his head letting out a yawn as he dragged his legs over the side of the bed, letting them seek out the slippers that had been carefully placed near the bed.

Maybe a shower would kick start him this morning. He stood up and shuffled over to the bathroom in hopes that some water rejuvenation would work.

It didn't.

It wasn't just the heat wave, it was what lay ahead this day.

Every easy task was becoming a chore this morning. Waking up, taking a shower, and now getting dressed. What did that mean for the rest of the day?

He pulled out a blue oxford shirt to go with the gray suit. The next decision was a stop at his tie rack. He really wanted to go with an old familiar one that was comfortable, but his hand stopped at the new one he'd been given as a gift. It was a stylish match with his suit and it would add a nice accent to his overall look. McCormick felt obligated to wear it and so he selected it. He slid it around his neck and knotted it up. Reaching down to the suit coat that he had laid out on the bed, he scooped it up, flung it over his back and headed downstairs.

The house was abnormally quiet.

What was he so damn apprehensive about? He was more than prepared, he'd even filled in a few lucky times before. He knew what to expect. It wouldn't be completely new. There was no earthly reason to be nervous. There went another heavy sigh.

He walked through the recognizable surroundings. This place looked the same, smelled the same, and sounded the same, including the squeak on the landing when he stepped into the den.

There was a cup of hot coffee over near the desk. He could see the steam still rising from it. That brought the hint of a smile to his face. He walked over to it, plopped down on the edge of the desk in usual fashion and picked up the cup and took a nice long sip from it. That helped a little. He internally reminded himself to relax.

His mind began to wander.

Of all the stupid days to start. Halloween. He didn't have much to say about it how it came to be or when either. There had been a death and he'd gotten the appointment. It was that simple.

No one but him and maybe a few other old timers would recall that Halloween was Hardcastle's favorite holiday. There would be another party here later in the day to celebrate both occasions, after the work was done. The now quiet house would ironically come to life on the day of the dead.

His eyes scanned around the room as the third sigh of the morning passed over his lips.

Behind him on the desk was a hand-written note, slid under a miniature pumpkin. His hand slid across the desk and he picked it up to read it.

It looked like scribble at first, impossible to read as he used his arm like a trombone, trying to adjust his focus, until he finally reached into the pocket of his oxford shirt and pulled out his reading glasses.

His face lit up with a grin as he read through the message. She'd gotten everyone up and out of the house understanding that he'd appreciate the time alone this morning. They all knew that Halloween, the runt of the liter as he liked to call it, was not one of his favorites, even so, they thought he wouldn't mind the tiny pumpkin as a sign of good luck on this very special day. The P.S. reminded him about the special 'costume' he had waiting for him on the back of the door, 'Cleaned and pressed for just this occasion, courtesy of Frank, Mattie and the rest of the poker buddies.'

He turned back towards the pumpkin and grabbed it and held it in his hand for a few seconds, before setting it down, getting to his feet and carrying himself and the note over to the back of the door to have a look at what waited for him.

It was still in the garment bag. He unzipped it and shook his head in disbelief as he saw it there hanging right in front of him. He closed his eyes remembering the man who wore it first. It made him smile from ear to ear. Then, pausing for the fourth and final sigh of the day, he finally reached in and took it off the hanger and tried it on for size. It was heavy, but not unbearable and though it seemed oversized, he suddenly felt as though he could shoulder the weight and responsibility it carried, thanks in large part to the man to whom it originally belonged to. His apprehension faded.

He stood there, wearing the heavy robe, knowing that they no longer made them quite like this. He spun around and gave a glance to the old desk as if to acknowledge all that had passed and all that was to come.

McCormick lifted up the note and reread it once again, including the final line.

'Hardcastle would be so proud of you _Judge_ McCormick.'

He folded up the note and went to tuck it inside the right pocket. As he reached in he felt a cellophane packet. He pulled it out and laughed as he saw its contents. Someone had remembered to leave him a bag of peanuts to help him get through the long day.


End file.
